


Paper, Wood, Tin

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Anniversaries, Cambridge, F/M, Gift Giving, M/M, Sedleigh, mentioned Mike/Phyllis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: Three anniversaries.





	Paper, Wood, Tin

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't check the years so this might not line up exactly with canon but whatever.  
> In case you didn't know, the title comes from anniversary themes. 1st anniversary is called the paper anniversary, 5th is wood, and 10th is tin.

1.

Mike had been rather caught off guard the first time it happened. It wasn’t a very memorable day, aside from that one part, and they had been lounging beside the river as the leaves above them twisted in the warm sunlight. Psmith, of course, had made some gallant speech about how much their friendship meant to him and how life at Sedleigh had been made bearable simply by Mike’s “beloved presence.”

Mike turned the little wooden figurine over in his hands. It was a trifle amateurish, but was recognizable as a boy with a bat in his hands, crouching as if about to strike. Psmith had carved it himself.

“I say, Smith, I’m awfully sorry,” Mike said finally. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Psmith waved Mike’s apology away with an airy hand. “Think nothing of it, Comrade. Have I not just intimated that it is your presence that I find enjoyable, and not any gifts you may bestow upon my person, desirable though they may be? Of course, if this trend of forgetfulness continues, I may be pressed into irritation; but as of now, you are completely forgiven.”

Mike, in the spur of the moment, plucked up a kingcup flower and fitted it in Psmith’s buttonhole.

“There,” he mused with a grin. “It’s not much, but it’s something.” Sobering momentarily, he added, “I promise I won’t forget next year, Psmith.”

Psmith swallowed. “I shall keep you to your word, then.”

Mike shoved pleasantly at his shoulder.

 

2.

Several years later, Mike was significantly more prepared. He had marked the date on his calendar and had put time into a gift that he hoped was properly thoughtful, yet restrained enough to suit his sensibilities. When Psmith cleared his throat that evening and began saying things about their “natural connection” and the “stirrings” present in his heart, Mike leapt up from his bed and rummaged about in his desk until he found what he was looking for. It was a set of silver cuff links with a matching tie pin, each etched with a small yet ornate P. Mike wasn’t much of one for preamble, so he let Psmith finish his speech and then pressed the items into his palms.

“I know it’s not anything grand,” he admitted. “But I figured, since you’d lost your favorites, that you might want some new ones.”

Psmith couldn’t hold back a tiny smile. “They are perfect, Comrade Jackson. I shall wear them every day.”

Psmith was true to his word, until one fateful evening when, fumbling in the dark together, they managed to lose them underneath the mattress.

 

3.

“I know it’s been ages since, but I figured I might as well, for old times’ sake.”

Mike had just presented Psmith with a beautiful pocket watch, and Psmith ran his thumb over the case, smiling.

“I had wondered whether you had…forgotten.” The last word was said in charity, and Mike felt it keenly.

“I wouldn’t forget,” he promised. “Even with—everything.”

Psmith’s smile was a trifle wistful. “Hm. Well, have no fear, dear Comrade Jackson. I did not forget, either.” He pulled a small box from his breast pocket and handed it to Mike. “I believe you will find the gift serves a double purpose.”

Mike opened the box carefully. Inside were cuff links and a tie pin, rather like the ones he had given Psmith several years ago. In fact, they were rather more similar the more Mike looked at them; they were etched with small P’s: _Psmith_ , but also _Phyllis_.

“I hope you will not mind the presumption,” Psmith said. “But I rather think I’d fancy them on you.”

Mike leaned over and pressed a kiss to Psmith’s high cheekbone.

“Thanks,” he murmured against Psmith’s skin. “I’ll wear them every day.”


End file.
